


Old Quebec

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [127]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-30
Updated: 2008-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Quinn vacation in Quebec City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Quebec

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> Quebec information, courtesy of:  
> [http://www.lacitadelle.qc.ca](http://www.lacitadelle.qc.ca/)  
> <http://www.thetravelzine.com/2canada2000.htm>

The Chateau Frontenac dominated Quebec City's skyline, but it wasn't easy to get there. Caught in the tangle of narrow streets, Quinn knew his sharp-eyed lad was his only hope. Sure enough, Ian eventually spotted a shady archway for them to enter.  
  
Ian checked in while Quinn parked, and they met on a couch in the lobby, Ian jangling the keys between his fingers. They took the elevator up to the fourth floor, where Ian unlocked the door into an airy room with an unusual shape.  
  
A king-size bed and two nightstands lounged against the far wall, while a cherrywood writing desk sunned itself by the window as the dresser looked on with envy. This left a rectangular space, about the size of Quinn's office at home, empty of all furniture but a couch.  
  
Throwing his duffel on the bed, Ian sank down into the first form of the Summer Breeze kata. "Our own private 'idojo'," he quipped with a grin.  
  
Quinn groaned. "Oh, laddie! I thought it couldn't get worse than 'sham rock', but I underestimated you." Their chuckles harmonized as he dumped his own duffel on the bed, where it got into a scuffle with Ian's. He walked to the window and saw the St. Lawrence River sparkling in the afternoon sun, inviting them to come out and play.  
  
"Hungry, lad?" Quinn asked, leaning against the sill.  
  
Ian nodded, then unfolded himself and came to stand by Quinn. He kissed him as they basked in the Canadian sunlight, exhilarated by the start of their vacation.  
  
After using the facilities, they headed out into the Quebec sunshine. The restaurant district was just outside the walled city, and there were dozens of eateries competing for their attention with prix fixe specials.  
  
Quinn's height was an advantage as they checked out menus, since many other couples were doing the same. Even at the current exchange rate, prices were still reasonable. They finally decided on The Old Cannons, a little place with stained glass windows and a European flavor.  
  
Settled at a corner table, they gave their order to the server. Mushroom soup appealed to the hobbit in them, then tortellini marinara, with opera cake for dessert.  
  
The waiter brought coffee first, with an unexpected treat -- a bowl of variegated sugar crystals, their white, tan, and brown hues looking for all the world like polished bits of rock.  
  
Ian scooped a spoonful and swirled it into his coffee. He took an experimental sip and grinned. When Quinn saw his face, he had to try it, too.  
  
"Mmm. Tastes like rock candy." Ian drank some more.  
  
"Delicious," Quinn said, absently gazing at Ian's lips.  
  
Their soup came and had an added splash of sherry, a mellow delight. Despite Ian's hobbit-like mushroom craving, he did not poach from Quinn's bowl.  
  
"When do you have to be in for advising next week?" asked Ian.  
  
"On Tuesday. I've got a transfer student who's claiming she can skip the 100 requirement." Quinn sighed.  
  
"Let me guess. She took Intro Lit at Skye Community College and thinks it's equivalent."  
  
"Got it in one." Quinn rolled his eyes. "I've asked her to bring the syllabus so I can point out the differences. Skye doesn't even require a Shakespeare play."  
  
"Good luck. Too much diplomacy for a summer's day." Ian smiled into his coffee.  
  
"So you're not interested in advising next summer?" Quinn asked innocently.  
  
Ian chortled. "Very funny! I'm already set to chair the Exams Committee. How much d'ya want from me?"  
  
'Everything, laddie,' Quinn thought. Ian's mock-pout made Quinn want to kiss him right there in the crowded restaurant. He smiled into his eyes instead. "You're doing plenty already, lad."  
  
The server came with their tortellini and shredded romano cheese.  
  
"What would you like to do after we eat?" Ian was already on his fifth tortellini.  
  
Quinn sipped his coffee. "How 'bout the boardwalk?"  
  
"Sounds good. A chance to see the river up close." Ian sprinkled more cheese on his pasta.  
  
"I'd love it if they held the next Saul Bellow conference here. Beautiful setting for it."  
  
"That would probably increase attendance," Ian said playfully.  
  
Quinn chuckled. "Undoubtedly."  
  
Ian said, "Have a feeling that's why the Tolkien symposium was held in Windover. Couldn't have been more idyllic."  
  
Quinn covered Ian's hand with his own on the tablecloth. "It was perfect," he said simply.  
  
When the waiter brought their opera cake, they instantly noticed that it was the Canadian cousin of their wedding cake, chocolate mocha hazelnut torte.  
  
Just from looking at Ian's grin, Quinn could tell his lad was remembering how he'd gotten it all over Quinn's face at the reception. They shared a secret smile.  
  
Mischief postponed, Ian picked up his fork and started eating. The mocha cream was delectable and would have tasted much better on Quinn.  
  
"It's delicious, but I still prefer Roma's somehow." Ian winked as he took another bite.  
  
"Yes, it's something indefinable." Warm eyes shone velvet blue at Ian.  
  
When they'd finished everything, down to their second cups of coffee, Ian asked for the bill. He paid with his MasterGuard, glad that the credit card company would deal with the exchange rate.  
  
They went to the men's room, then Ian took out his map. The boardwalk was only a few blocks away. They headed over and heard the sounds of a busker band before they even reached it. 'Scarborough Fair' drifted over the shoreline. Quinn put a couple dollars in the guitar case, and he and Ian relaxed on a nearby bench.  
  
A perfect moment: the haunting melody, the rhythm of the river, the kids playing catch nearby.  
  
After the song was over, they walked past fruit and ice cream stands, enjoying the breeze coming in from the St. Lawrence River. It gleamed green-blue in the late afternoon sun and reminded Quinn of another perk of their vacation.  
  
"Let's go for a swim when we get back to the hotel, okay?" Quinn dropped his arm over Ian's shoulder.  
  
Ian beamed up at him. "Good idea. It's a bit warm."  
  
Of course, this was Canadian warm, about 68 degrees.  
  
"Cheer up, Ian. Back home, it's probably about 72." Quinn pointed to a seabird circling above them. "Looks like an egret."  
  
Ian gazed up appreciatively. "We'll have to get one of those driftwood carvings for my mom. It'll look good by the lighthouse she has on the mantel."  
  
"Lucky there's a souvenir booth every few yards," Quinn said. "I'd like to buy a cap, too. Sun's really starting to beat down."  
  
They stopped in at the next little place and bought new Clone Wars caps. The clerk cut the tags off so they could wear them immediately.  
  
"Can't wait for it to come out," Ian said as they left the booth.  
  
Quinn cocked his cap. "I want to see General Kenobi."  
  
"Who doesn't?" asked Ian insouciantly.  
  
Quinn's eyes crinkled as he asked a question of his own. "Ready for that swim now?"  
  
Ian looked at his watch. "Yeah. We ate over an hour ago."  
  
They turned and headed for the hotel. As always, it seemed faster walking back. They changed into their swim trunks and took the elevator to the bottom floor. The pool was huge, almost Olympic size, but it didn't have steps, just ladders. A few children and their parents were playing in the shallow end, so they put their towels near the diving board.  
  
Quinn dove in gracefully, while Ian jumped in with a mighty splash.  
  
"Try and catch me!" Ian streaked through a lap lane in the deep end.  
  
Quinn could not let this challenge go unmet. "Too easy." He powered through the water as if he were going for the gold. He touched the side a split-second before Ian, despite his lad's head start.  
  
"You were saying, laddie?" Quinn teased as they caught their breath.  
  
Ian's laugh blended with the children's. He braced himself on the side of the pool and let his legs float, delighted when he felt Quinn's thigh against his own. "Mmm...nice," Ian drawled.  
  
"Nothing like a little swim, lad." Quinn smiled down at him.  
  
They lounged together, enjoying the water rippling over their skin. It just got more intimate when the family left. Cool silence buoyed them as they hugged in their private paradise. Closing their eyes against the reflection of lights in the water, they just drifted.  
  
Ian loved pool time -- an endless stretch of afternoon suspended by a cushion of water. He suspected that was why pool clocks were so big -- they were the only reminder that the outside world existed.  
  
When another family flip-flopped in, the men decided to leave. Still dripping after a desultory toweling, they squelched to the elevator and down the hall to their room and put up the 'Do not disturb' magnet. They threw their towels under the sink in the bathroom, and Ian closed the drapes.  
  
Quinn grabbed him and hugged him close. He dove in for a kiss as he ran his hands up and down Ian's damp back. Ian clung to him tighter than his wet swimsuit. 'Best part of swimming,' Quinn thought to himself.  
  
Ian kissed Quinn as he'd wanted to in the pool, the water from his husband's hair dripping down both their faces. He licked off a drop, letting Quinn capture his tongue and devour it. He pushed his thigh between Quinn's bare legs and delighted in his herven's ('husband' in Sindarin) gasp.  
  
Quinn pulled his mouth from Ian's by force of will. The jab of Ian's erection against his thigh went straight to his own cock. He had to get Ian's trunks off now. He could barely get his fingers under the waistband, what with Ian's writhing.  
  
Ian couldn't stop wriggling, even to help Quinn take off his suit. Luckily, his husband had plenty of experience undressing him, especially when excited. He felt Quinn's chuckle against his neck as the swimsuit fell down his legs.  
  
Ah, Ian was finally naked against him. Quinn grabbed Ian's hips and ground himself into his lad. He felt a drop of pre-come form at his tip from Ian's grunts.  
  
Ian now was in Quinn's dilemma: how to get Quinn's trunks off when his husband was plastered against him without an inch to spare. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and hoped for the best. Hanging on, despite Quinn's thrusting hips and his own weak-kneed reaction, he somehow pushed them down enough to let gravity take over.  
  
Quinn growled into his mouth and pushed Ian onto the bed. Pressing Ian into the mattress, Quinn kept on kissing him. They were groaning continuously by now and only found each other's lips by instinct.  
  
Ian started bucking, held down by a solid column of husband. His slick erection rubbed against Quinn's, tantalizing both of them. Hot, wet, hard -- he shouted as he came explosively, then dimly felt Quinn pulsing onto his stomach.  
  
Quinn's arms gave out and he fell on top of Ian with a grunt. He started to roll off him, but Ian was having none of it.  
  
"Stay," Ian implored. He craved Quinn on him, heavy with love.  
  
"Always, laddie," Quinn breathed into his ear, tickling Ian's sideburn. His long arm barely reached the tissue box, but he snagged a few and made a tired attempt at clean-up.  
  
They lay there nuzzling until they fell asleep. 

* * *

Quinn stirred against Ian's shoulder. He opened his eyes, to see fair skin surrounding him. Brushing over it with his lips, he smiled into his husband's nipple. Ian murmured incoherently above him, and he raised his head to see the clock. 11:37 pm.  
  
Ian woke up in the best possible way, with his husband lavishing him with love. "Hey, handsome," he murmured.  
  
"Oh, laddie, that was wonderful." Quinn continued to nuzzle.  
  
"And so are you." Ian relaxed under him. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm. I'll check the vending machines." Quinn unstuck himself from Ian and rose reluctantly. He cleaned up a bit in the bathroom, then looked for Canadian change. He set out to search for food and drink while Ian turned over for a snooze.  
  
Quinn wandered down the hall, trying to find the alcove with ice and vending machines. Pleasantly surprised to see a variety of granola bars and juices, he bought an assortment and carried it home using his shirt as a pouch.  
  
His lad was still asleep when Quinn dropped them on the dresser, then went back to get ice. He set up a treat table on the desk, with iced orange and apple juice in hotel glasses and oatmeal bars on the tray that had held the ice bucket.  
  
Now Quinn had to awaken his dozing husband. He sat on the bed and gently ruffled Ian's hair. Ian's eyes cracked open and he pulled Quinn down for a kiss.  
  
"Ready for dinner?" Quinn said against Ian's lips.  
  
"That'd be nice." Ian kissed Quinn soundly.  
  
Quinn pulled him up and sat down on the edge of the desk, leaving Ian the chair. They clinked their juice glasses and started their meal.  
  
"Seems like breakfast," Ian said, then took a bite of his granola.  
  
Quinn shrugged. "I know, but the only other choices were candy bars and soda."  
  
Ian leaned back in the chair. "No contest."  
  
They munched their way through the meal, then Ian washed the glasses and tray. Since they'd just napped, they weren't ready to sleep yet. Quinn turned on the TV and they settled down on the bed, Ian's head pillowed on Quinn's chest. Quinn kept clicking the channels until he saw Benton Fraser, and they settled in to watch a repeat of Due South until falling asleep. 

* * *

Since they'd been up into the wee hours, they didn't stir until noonish. They woke in a tangle of legs and arms, and started chuckling when it was hard to pull free. Ian slid his calf around Quinn's, deliberately knotting them closer together.

Quinn's laughing eyes were intensely blue. He stroked Ian's leg with his own slowly. His morning erection instinctively sought Ian's, even as he continued to tease the fine hairs on his lad's calf.

Ian wanted to kiss Quinn's smile now. He caught those lips, despite the delicious distractions down below. As they kissed, Ian's erection found Quinn's and he grunted his approval. They kissed and kissed, growing harder and harder.

Finally, Quinn couldn't take it anymore, and he flailed blindly for the gel. He couldn't quite reach the drawer, so he ran his forefinger over Ian's tip, then his own, and wrapped his hand around his shaft. It wasn't enough, so he spit into his palm and added that. He spit a second time, then prepared Ian.

Sliding inside with a cry, Quinn closed his eyes against the ecstasy in Ian's. Trying not to come at the first thrust, he thought of paperwork and pre-requisites until he settled down.

Ian could feel his husband's battle and didn't move an inch. When Quinn's eyes opened, he crooned, "It's okay," so Quinn would know that he wouldn't be disappointed, come what may.

Oh, how Quinn loved his easygoing laddie! He grinned down at him with all that love in his eyes and started to thrust slowly. Ian's groans went straight to his cock. He resisted the temptation to speed up, though, what with a needy lad impaled beneath him.

Ian tried not to wiggle, tried not to wriggle, but it was a hopeless fight. He gave in to the superior force stroking him and let the sensations take him. Desperate to catch Quinn's lips before he came, he raised his head, seeking. He had never been so grateful for their height difference. Quinn's lips came down on his hard, almost as hard as he was pounding him into the sheets.

Quinn shouted when he felt Ian clench around him, his come splashing heat onto his already-sweaty stomach. He rammed into Ian -- once, twice -- then came Quinn-deep inside him.

Catching his breath with Quinn on top of him wasn't easy for Ian, but he couldn't bear to push him away. It was hard to become separate people again. He sighed when Quinn pulled out and rolled off.

Quinn patted Ian's ribs, then rested bonelessly for a while beside him, listening to his laddie's breath even out. The sheet was wet under him and he could smell his own sweat.

"I need a shower, lad. Join me?" Quinn heaved himself up.

Ian stretched slowly. "You're the only one who could get me out of this bed."

Quinn chuckled as they walked to the bathroom, where he turned on the water while Ian wiped a couple of drips off his legs before they hit the floor. He made room for Ian in the shower and started to wash him with the tiny soap. His gentle touch soothed sensitive skin, and he soon had Ian purring in his arms.

Ian took the bar, barely the size of a piece of chalk by now, and returned the favor, letting the lathering become a massage. Then he turned his husband to stand under the spray and when the water ran clear, he took his place.

Luckily, the hotel had provided four bath towels, so they had fresh ones to dry with, despite their swim. They toweled each other dry as they hadn't been able to do at the pool, with the added spice of post-coital kisses.

Dressing in fresh polo shirts and shorts, they then took turns with the comb.

Ian said, "I thought I saw a little Italian place on the drive in. How 'bout it?"

"Let's go." Quinn threw Ian one key and put the other in his pocket.

The sun was shining and their hair was ruffled by a pleasant breeze as they walked. The winding streets were a bit confusing despite their map, but they happened on the restaurant, Maria's, in about fifteen minutes.

They were quickly becoming addicted to Quebec's prix fixe menus, posted by the door of most eateries. So lovely to have a complete meal, without having to debate getting dessert. When they walked in, the hostess led them to their table by a window that looked out to the cobbled street.

They asked for 'half-yards' -- beer in 18 inch glasses cradled inside a wooden holder. Drinking their beer while reviewing the menu, they had a hard time deciding what to eat. After a few minutes, the server took their order of wedding soup, shrimp parmesan, and an assortment of fruit tartlets for dessert.

"What would you like to do after lunch?" said Quinn.

Ian sipped his half-yard while mulling it over. "Let's go up to The Citadel and take a tour."

"Good idea. The museum is supposed to be impressive." Quinn sat back in his chair.

The soup arrived steaming hot, and they were grateful for A.C. in the ancient building. When Ian started blowing on it, Quinn was even more grateful.

Ian glanced at his wedding ring while eating. He looked up at Quinn with shining eyes. "I was just thinking that Canada legalized same-sex marriage the very year of our own wedding in Windover."

"Oh, laddie. What a lovely coincidence." Quinn patted Ian's left hand with his own.

Ian beamed. "2005 was quite a year for us."

Quinn was in no hurry to move his hand, even when he heard the waitress's footsteps. He winked when he lifted it, just in time for her to put their entrees down.

Ian took a taste and grinned when he realized the shrimp was cooked in olive oil. He'd loved this dish ever since his mom had made it as a special treat when he was a boy.

Judging from his smile, Quinn liked it, too. Or perhaps he liked its effect on Ian.

They ate with gusto, enjoying the freshness of the sauce, the bite of the cheese. Ian scraped his plate, glad for the leisurely pace of the meal. Quinn finished soon after and sipped his water.

After clearing the table, the server waited a few minutes to bring coffee and dessert. Blackberry, apple, raspberry, and bilberry tartlets were streaked with white and dark chocolate. After expert negotiations on both sides, Quinn got the raspberry and apple, while Ian had the bilberry and blackberry. The perfect light touch to end the meal.

Quinn paid this time, then they set out into the afternoon sunlight. Since they'd meandered down to the lower section in search of Maria's, they had to take the funicular to the upper town. The cable car was a scenic way to travel, with dramatic views of the two levels of the Old City.

On the way to The Citadel, they stopped to look at cannon emplacements and walk along the ramparts. Ian asked a fellow tourist to take their picture standing in front of the crenellated walls. He wore an endearingly cocky expression, as if he and Quinn were defenders of the city.

They finally arrived at The Citadel museum, where they had to wait fifteen minutes for a tour. It was well worth it, though, when they walked through galleries with displays of medals, uniforms, paintings, flags, and armaments.

Ian was particularly struck by the detailed and colorful insignias, while Quinn enjoyed the varied helmets on exhibit. After the tour ended, they noticed the clouds had come in, so they decided to do a little shopping.

Their first stop was a bookstore with inviting outdoor shelves. Ian picked up a paperback history of Quebec City, while Quinn chose an English/French dictionary. The indulgent uncles didn't forget Lelia and got her several historical coloring books.

Then they wandered along the cobblestones until Ian spotted an ice cream stand. They ordered two cups of peppermint ice cream and continued their stroll. When they finished their ice cream, they went into a local crafts shop.

Quinn bought a print of the St. Lawrence River, and Ian got a mezzotint of The Chateau Frontenac. They even remembered to get carvings of seabirds for Jo, as well as for Ginny and Kathy. They had them sent to Alder Run to make it easier to shop.

By the time they returned to their hotel in the early evening, they were sweaty and exhausted. Sitting on a couch in the lobby, they basked in the air conditioning.

"Are you hungry?" Quinn asked as his hand came down on Ian's shoulder.

Ian shook his head. "That ice cream made a perfect dinner for me. What about you?"

Quinn yawned. "I don't feel like eating now either. I'm too tired."

They sauntered upstairs to their room, kicked off their shoes, and creaked into bed. Ian curled into Quinn's arms, and both of them fell asleep seconds later.

The Chateau Frontenac guarded their dreams.


End file.
